


Sharing Is Caring

by TheMadPuppy85



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Dark, Dubious Consent, F/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Slavery, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, ménage à trois, sleazy pulp fiction style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9832736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadPuppy85/pseuds/TheMadPuppy85
Summary: An AU where Saeran and Saeyoung are enslaved hackers of the Agency and you are the girl thrown to them as a reward to keep them obedient… And hopefully survive.





	1. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is already more advanced on my [Tumblr!](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com) Also check my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) if you want to know the progress in my writing, and enjoy!

**_“No! Let me go! Let me go!”_** you screeched desperately, fighting the guard’s grip with all your might. You knew the door he was dragging you to—the red door— _that_ door—and you also knew the moment it’d close behind you, your life would be forfeited. You’d be alive, but dead; breathing, but doomed; on Earth, but in Hell, just like the countless girls who walked that path before you.

 ** _“Please let me go! I don’t deserve this!”_** you screamed again, your voice cracking into a sob. For God’s sake, the child had been only 9, not even old enough to have her first period, what were you supposed to do? Stand still as they bartered her away to an old pervert, pretend you didn’t hear her cry for her mother as he molested her in the next room? You hadn’t defied anyone, you just had offered to take her place—was that really worth a long, painful death? “ ** _Please!_** Please, please, _please_ , I don’t want to die, I don’t want to—” you pleaded tearfully, panic stripping you bare of your dignity as you clung to his filthy arm and started kissing it instead, shamelessly begging for your life.

“Shut up, bitch!” the guard growled at last, slapping you hard enough to send you flying face first on the ground and make your skull explode with pain. “You wanted to volunteer for the good cause? Do a little charity work, hmm?” he taunted, rubbing your nose against the dirt as if to grind the point home. “Well then, you should be happy! Come on, Mother Theresa” he spat, pulling you by the hair this time, forcing you to crawl on all fours like an animal or risk having your scalp ripped from your head, “to the Twins you go!” he finished gleefully.

You felt a frigid gust of wind blast in your eyes as he swung the door on its hinges, then cried out as he kicked you viciously in the ass to push you forward until you rolled in, then slammed the wood shut behind you with an ominous _thud_. 

“ ** _Asshole!_** ” you shouted at the top of your lungs, loud enough for your throat to hurt, banging on the heavy oak with both hands until your fists bloodied, but you knew it was in vain.  There was only darkness now, and the guard’s cruel laugh echoing down the hall.

You were going to die.

***

You couldn’t have said how much time you spent curled on yourself, crying hysterically while looking at the thin ray of light piercing under the door like a convict savour his last meal. You stared at it as if you could imprint it in your memory, as a reminder, or as a metaphor, you weren’t sure—hope shone bright even in the direst of situations, or maybe, just like your freedom, shrunk until there was nothing but a hairline’s worth of it that broke from neglect. One day, you had been a naïve girl dreaming of a better life in the City; the next you were a whore in an underground brothel managed by a shady Agency; and now, thanks to your good nature, you had been thrown to satisfy the appetites of their most savage pets until they literally _fucked you to death_.

“Don’t think of that” you whispered to yourself, shaking yourself into action before your sanity slipped away. Your predicament was dour, but you couldn’t let it crush you, _wouldn’t_ let it crush you; you owed it to every fellow slave you had lectured about not giving up. Panic would lead you nowhere, and you had moped long enough. If given the chance, you _still_ would have offered to take the child’s place; as for the guard, you had done everything in your power to move him. There was nothing to regret in the recent chain of events; all you could do was go forward.

Stronger with that thought, you considered the stairs descending in the darkness, trying to assess the situation to the best of your knowledge. Down below, in the compound’s belly, lived the Twins; formidable hackers who were so dangerous the rumour went that the Agency had no choice but to lock them up in their private dungeon. According to your cellmates, one was mad like Suicide, and the other merciless as Murder, together being two sides of the same coin of Death; and for some reason, one day the Agency had sent them a girl. Much like in the tale of Bluebeard, she hadn’t survived discovering what was on the other side of the door, and from then on they had kept sending one more, and one more, and one more… and that was about it.

 _Still plenty enough,_ you reflected with determination. There was a common thread in the stories; the girls were not killed at a regular interval. Meaning, some of them had lasted longer than others, and that in turn meant that some of their actions had prolonged or shortened their lives. If you could just figure which ones, you’d buy yourself time; and with enough of it, you’d find a way to get out of there.

“Come on, you can do this” you cheered yourself, getting up and placing an hesitant hand on the wall to trudge your way downstairs. Whatever the rumours said, men were still men, not mythical beings; you had been forced to sleep with enough of them to know they all cummed white in the end, and those Twins would be no exception. “Just start with one step…”

“Hello?” reverberated a male voice. It was young and pleasant, but the sound was distorted by its echo on the stony bricks, giving it a foreboding quality that froze you in your momentum. “Guten tag? Bonjour? Здравствуйте? 안녕하세요?” continued the voice, in a rather silly enumeration of the word in all languages of Eurasia.

“Who’s asking?” you replied instead warily. It was a stupid question, since there was no one there but the Twins, but you couldn’t help it. It was an overlook on your part, considering they were _hackers_ , not thugs, but you had expected crude butchers, not educated psychos— _not that I should complain_ , you chided yourself; the refined ones tended to be talkative, and you could definitely work with that.

“Thank God, you’re fine” the man sighed, and you filed the innocuous information for later—he said _God_ , so he was religious, that could be of use—and then shielded your eyes as the glare of his flashlight preceded his arrival by a millisecond, making you hiss in pain as it blinded you with its intensity.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” he apologized, pointing it at the ceiling instead. “Is that better? I didn’t think you’d be—I mean the previous girls were not—they just cowered against the door, you know? Some even tried to swallow their tongues, and when you stayed quiet too long, I feared—But you seem to have spirit, that’s good!” he amended, his speech a convoluted garble that forced you to take leaps of logic. “Anyway, I’m sorry to rush you, but Saeran is having an episode, and, well—considering the circumstances—I could really use your help right now” he concluded cryptically, his demand not so much a request as a polite order.

“Saeran?” you repeated dumbly, your heart beating in trepidation as your eyes adjusted enough to discern his features. His hair was red as blood and his eyes gold like a cat, but otherwise he looked perfectly normal, even a bit geeky with his thick yellow glasses and his oversized hoodie. It was hard to think this was one of the fearsome Twins who made the upper-levels tremble, but you knew too well how appearances could be deceiving.

“My brother. I’m Saeyoung, by the way, but you can call me Luciel, or—how do the bosses call me again? Seven? 707?” he mused out loud, then gave up on before you could answer. “Not that it matters. I’m sure our reputation must be frightening, but—no, later about that. We really need to go” he insisted, striding strikingly fast to your side to circle your wrist with his fingers and trail you after him.

“Wait!” you protested, stumbling on purpose to slow him down. If you were heading into a crisis, you needed the maximum of information, _right now_ , or this was doomed to fail. “What’s happening? What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing!” Saeyoung swore with a huff, the strain of keeping his frustration in check to appear cordial piercing through his voice. “You just have to show up and, and _talk_ to him…and he’ll calm down…well _maybe_ ” he explained lamely, tugging harder on your hand to hurry you along.

“ _Maybe?_ ” you pointed, barely believing your ears. “Or maybe _what?_ I die, just like all the other girls?” you accused. That was rude, but if that was the endgame already, you were past caring about the consequences of angering him.

“Ahaha…Well, about that…” he laughed weakly, rubbing his hand in his crimson hair in an embarrassed gesture, “…I can’t say it was our idea, I mean, not the _killing_ part, of course, but the _sending_ part, like it’s not like we requested it, you know? I mean they don’t _need_ to do that to force us to work, I’m sure you can imagine that too—” he stopped, as if realizing he was rambling, then sighed deeply. “Saeran is a bit… _unstable_ , mentally, and one day he just lost it completely, and… I don’t know, I think they just figured that a girl could fix him? So they sent one, and miraculously, well… It _did_ calm him somehow.”

He paused then, and you waited with bathed breath for him to reveal _why_ , the crucial piece of information that would save your life, and bit your lips in your effort not yell at him to spit it out and disturb his concentration.

“…They said it was sexual frustration, but I think he just needed a feminine touch, you know? She looked a bit like our mom, so that could be it?..” he theorized at last, but his frown belied he had no idea himself, and his following shrug confirmed he didn’t particularly care either. “In any case it went fine for a while! But then he realized I didn’t love her as much as he did, so he—and, and, well, they kept sending girls after that, but he either disliked them, or I wasn’t liking them enough for his taste, and well, since I’ve never been able to fool him for very long…” he trailed off, leaving the obvious for you to complete; _he killed all of them_.

Your mind went blank for a second with the sheer horror of it, those countless victims—some that you _knew_ , for chrissake—sacrificed for such a selfish reason, and remembered with as much heart as a list of groceries, before you forced yourself to focus on what needed to be done: _please the mad brother first, and then make sure this one likes me too_ , you summed up with an equal dose of optimism and dread. It seemed that what Saeran was after was a _ménage à trois,_ a happy little threesome; and while that wasn’t impossible to achieve, it was also a tall order, especially since Saeyoung didn’t seem to give a damn about you—or any of the previous girls for that matter—past the sedative effect you could have on his brother. It was almost as if you were a tool, or that he was so convinced that Saeran would be forever unsatisfied that he gave up about seeing you as anything but a number; a _human_ number, but a number nonetheless, _girl #187, lasted 3 weeks, pretty effective all things considered_. It didn’t feel like indifference, not really, but rather… resignation, some kind of learned helplessness as immovable as apathy.

 _I’ll think about that later_ , you dismissed, centering on your energy on your meeting with Saeran for now. He was the priority; you could worry about seducing Saeyoung after you were sure of being on Saeran’s good side, and that started with the meager clue he gave you.

“What about me? Do I look like your mother?” you inquired hastily as you spotted the last of the stairs, praying whichever deity willing to hear you that it was the case.

“I guess you do?” Saeyoung replied distractedly, giving you a quick once-over. “You have the same kind of severe beauty anyway, with the dark hair and cropped bangs” he motioned to your head, before his attention snapped back to the terrible sound of glass shattering. “ _Saeran!”_ he cried in concern, running so fast that it almost sent you flying like a kite after him.

He stopped in his tracks just as abruptly, making you collide with his back, and you figured the reason the moment you stepped aside to take a look at the room. It was bare and sterile as an hospital wing, with a kitchen unit and a giant bed in the opposite corners, and a discreet door that had to lead to a bathroom; that was depressing enough, but the true tragedy were the tables, the long, _empty_ tables that had to be full of computer equipment before, which was now in a billion pieces on the floor. In the center of the storm was a smaller man in punk attire, with hair as white as snow and a sick complexion, the kind of illness that spread for the mind and infected the body; you couldn’t help the chill going down your spine just from looking at him.

“Here, Saeran, look who came to visit us today?” Saeyoung introduced after recovering from his consternation, completely ignoring the damage. “Isn’t she pretty?” he continued while pushing your forward, his tone noticeably softer, as if he was addressing a wild animal.

“Hi, Saeran!” you greeted when he stayed silent, managing a shy smile. “My name is—”

“ _I don’t care about your name!_ ” Saeran screamed while stumping his foot down on what used to be a printer, his voice a high-pitched whine that sounded half like a screeching bat, half like a wounded child, and that petrified you with shock.

“Saeran!” his brother admonished harshly. “Remember what we talked about? How we have to be _nice_ in order for this to work?”

“…I remember” Saeran replied at last, pouting petulantly as his eyes flicked back to consider you again. Unlike his brother, his irises were a deep aqua, which would have given him the softer edge if he wasn’t so clearly unhinged. “I’m sorry for my outburst” he said more demurely, like a toddler reciting an apology he didn’t quite understand past the point that it gave him what he wanted. “I don’t care about your name, okay? I’ll call you whatever I want” he added with false gentleness, approaching you to pat your hair as if you were a new pet, before his lips stretched in an eerie smile that froze your soul to the core. “You’re going to die soon anyway, aren’t you?”

 _No, I’m not_ , you thought internally, struggling to keep calm. _I’m going to make you fall in love with me. Both of you._

“W-well, since there’s no more work to be done today, why don’t we head to bed and get better acquainted?” Saeyoung suggested uneasily, ignoring his brother’s actions again and making your heart beat a furious staccato as you took a deep breath.

You could do this. You’d fuck them both so good that they’d decide to share you or kill each other over your affections, whichever came first.


	2. A Fitting Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* This is not a sexy chapter. Unfortunately, we must go through it for the sake of the plot’s development, but the sex is not pleasant for the heroine at all, not this time. She’s abused, tortured, fearing for her life; I made that clear in the tags that this would be in the story, but just in case, if that’s not your thing, I’ll post another notice once the dynamic is more consensual. That said, onward!

“We can’t bring her to bed” Saeran stated disdainfully. “She’s too yucky, she’ll mess up the sheets” he pointed as if you were a flea-infested dog Saeyoung picked right off the streets instead of a human being, motioning to your hands and legs.

 _Shit!_  you swore internally, refraining the urge to scream at this unforeseen development. You _had_ expected him to act like an unemphatic brat, and you _did_ probably look like a fright with the amount of dirt and blood sticking to your limbs, but in your experience, a man’s libido always triumphed over a little grime. If that was enough to bother him, then it was possible that Saeran’s primary motivator wasn’t sex, or at least that he suffered from a mental blockage that prevented him to desire you as long as you were filthy—and you couldn’t have that. If you wanted to live to see tomorrow, he had to start thirsting for you, _right now_.

 _Well, one man’s problem is a woman’s opportunity, isn’t it?_  you thought shrewdly as inspiration hit you, opening your mouth before you could second-guess yourself:

“You’re right, honey, we have to do something about that” you cooed while intently checking his reaction to the moniker. Saeyoung had spoken of maternal transference as a possible key for survival; what could have been his childhood nickname? Or how did he _wish_ his mother called him? Pumpkin pie? Love bug?… No, no, those sounded too amorous and cloying, and judging by Saeran’s little frown of suspicion, much too direct too. It had to be something more… Innocent and harmless, something matching his boyish disdain for a “yucky girl”.

“I’m cold too” _my angel_ , you almost added for your second try, but bit the word back in before it left your lips. This one just sounded plain _wrong_ , and you couldn’t afford a mistake, not when you were basically playing Russian roulette with pet names instead of bullets; just how many shots were left before he saw through your crude attempt at manipulation and blew up in your face?

 _Don’t think about that_ you reminded yourself, rubbing your arms theatrically to hide your growing nervousness and blend it with your original plan: “Look, I’m shivering all over! Won’t you be a sweetheart and help me take a bath?..”

His face relaxed fractionally at the endearment, and you repressed a shout of relieved triumph. _Sweetheart_ was promising, which meant _sweetie_ , _sweet boy_ or _good boy_ would probably do the trick too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Saeyoung’s jaw dropping a bit, either impressed by your audacity or wondering if you were suicidal to suggest going in the bathroom with Saeran _alone_.

 _It’s not like I have a choice_ , you thought resentfully, refusing to meet his questioning stare. You had to bond with Saeran as soon as possible, no matter the danger; ultimately Saeyoung’s presence in the room wouldn’t change anything if he decided to kill you. In fact, you were ready to bet Saeyoung had tried every trick in the book to appeal to his brother before succumbing to his current apathy; you might as well pretend he wasn’t there at all for the time being. Turning your attention back to your target, you plastered a smile on your face, and waited.

A few seconds ticked by, then Saeran returned your smile, stretching his lips in the same eerie grin as before. “…Why not? That sounds like a reasonable _request_ ” he agreed at last, stressing the word in a singsong, and you heard Saeyoung sigh besides you.

“Saeran, be _nice_ —” he started tiredly, but Saeran was already waving you forward, and you didn’t dare miss your cue. Strolling past him, you went straight for the bathroom, not pausing to see if he was following you; you didn’t know enough about him yet to gauge if he would perceive a backward glance or a playful tugging of his hand like an flirty invitation or a threat to his authority, and the possible rewards weren’t worth the risk, not when your odds were already so low

 _And this bathroom doesn’t help at all_ , you reflected in dismay upon crossing the threshold. The space was no bigger than a glorified closet, cramped with a laundry set on the right, a toilet right ahead and a tub doubling as a shower on the left. It was functional but utterly claustrophobic, and the only way you’d both fit in was if he was within lethal range right from the sta—

“You think you’re so smart to ask for my help, ain’t you?” he hammered without preamble in your ear, his tone dripping icicles, and you choked a shriek of fright. He hadn’t made a single sound to betray his approach; either he was unnaturally gifted, forcefully trained, or just plain beaten into learning, but his stealth was as disturbing as the rest of him. “Though luck, moron. I’m not your servant.”

“Of course, I know you’re not” you replied with as much parental benevolence as you could fake, bending down to put some merciful distance between you and draw yourself a bath. The porcelain was yellowed with age, cracked in more places that you could count and the water wouldn’t run faster than a trickle, but it was still quite the luxury compared to your previous quarters, and you’d be looking forward to it if you weren’t so on edge. “You’re here to make sure I clean up to your standards, are you not?”

“That’s it, that’s it!” he replied in this high-pitched giggle-whine that wasn’t quite child nor man, and you nodded internally, reassured to have a guideline for the proper behavior to adopt. You didn’t know what he found amusing, but the answer had been too fast and too eager, too _prompt_ to accept the justification; it just spoke volumes of how badly Saeran craved control, probably because he had so little over himself, and as long as you didn’t resist him on that, you should be fine.

“Alright then” you conceded, pushing the straps of your crumpled slip off your shoulders to let it pool at your feet dramatically. Saeran didn’t betray a reaction except for a tiny shuffle, but you still smiled with increased confidence. Many men had praised your enticing back, all long lines finishing on a pert bottom; it was encouraging to know he wasn’t indifferent to it either. “How do you want me to d—”

“Lie down, _right now!_ ” Saeran exploded with a renewed viciousness that didn’t bode well, his malevolent aura suddenly creeping up your spine like a carnivorous insect. “No! Face down in the water!” he added with maniacal glee when you crouched to sit, and cold dread seized you as your realized where this was going.

_He wants to drown me._

Horrifying visions of previous girls put in this exact scenario unfurled through your mind as the reason for the multiple cracks in the tub became clear, temporarily paralyzing your capacity to think. You could almost see their ghosts as they lived their final moments; some seeking a quick end by voluntarily filling their lungs with water, only to have their head pulled back at the last second and have it bashed against the broken tile wall like a ripe pumpkin; others refusing, begging and fighting, only to be cruelly denied and have their heads held underwater until they stopped trashing and died.  There wasn’t one scenario where Saeran let them off the hook, and judging by his hysterical burst of laughter, he was perfectly aware of it.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want my help for your stupid request anymore? You’re going to be _so clean_ ” he taunted, and you belatedly understood Saeyoung’s broken plea for him to be _nice_. This was his punishment for daring to presume of his actions, and you could only imagine what had happened to the poor girls who had _requested_ to cook him something to eat instead.

 _Because he craves control, and the whole point of this exercise is to show you he’s holding all the strings now, and you’re not dead yet, goddamn it, so **move!**_ supplied your brain upon re-engaging, and you found your mouth speaking by itself:

“Nothing’s wrong” you said placidly, meeting his intense gaze straight on. “Just getting used to the temperature” you added with a wink,  then took one big inspiration before forcing your limbs to comply and firmly pushing your face closer and closer to the tub’s drain, until your nostrils were flat on the metal ring and the water fell directly on the back of your head.

 _I can do this_ , you cheered yourself again as the liquid slowly submerged you. You had had sadistic clients before, who loved to pinch your nose and cut your air supply before deep-throating you until your lungs burned and your eyesight blurred with the need for oxygen; merely lying down and passively waiting would be nothing. You could go easily hold on for two minutes, maybe three or even four; Saeran would tire of his game before you did, probably as soon as he realized you had no intention to do anything but submit to his command, and you counted the seconds like a rosary’s beads. _1…2…3…_

Sure enough, at about two minutes and ten seconds, right when the tightening of your chest began to make your heart pound in your head, his fingers roughly gripped your hair, likely hoping you were about to rebel or give up. When you continued to lay still, the touch left, replaced by a frustrated snarl.

“Get up. You’re _boring_ ” he declared in defeat over the sound of the running water, and you pushed yourself up, flicking your wet bangs away from your eyes to look at him with what you hoped was a casual expression. He was now openly pouting, displeased as only a toddler dissatisfied with a new toy could be, but the previous viciousness was gone; it was time to try again to ingratiate yourself to him before he decided to test you with another creative torture.

“And you’re such a good boy not to have drowned me” you crooned in reply once your breathing smoothed out, as mundanely as if he had just given you a piece of candy instead of actively trying to murder you. His brows twitched then flattened again at the words _good boy_ , and you pressed your advantage, mindful of the endgame of showing equal interest in Saeyoung. “Is your brother as nice as you are?

“ _Shut up!_ _My brother is not nice! My brother betrayed me!_ ” Saeran screeched insanely before slapping you hard on the cheek, staring at you with crazed eyes that dared you to contradict him while his whole body trembled with barely suppressed rage. The blow stung, but the pain was dulled by your throbbing heart; _this_ was something important, right there, this hate that was powerful enough to disorganize him in a flash and yet made no sense. If he resented Saeyoung that badly, why would he care if he didn’t like a girl as much as he did?..

 _I’ll think about that later_ , you reflected hastily, turning your attention to the more immediate problem. You needed to defuse his anger before it escalated into murdering urges again, and you followed your instinct:

“Of course you are nicer than him!” you smiled, lightly touching his arm to deflect his attention on your body. His muscles tensed under your fingers, his eyes darting to the place where your hand laid like one would seek a fly to swat it away, but the movement also attracted his attention of your breasts, and his whole body froze, up to the breath in his throat.

 _I got him_ , you thought in victory as his pupils dilatated in tell-tale sign of arousal. It made sense that a guy with mother issues like Saeran would have a weakness for breasts, and you made a show of displaying them both fully.

“Do you want to touch them?” you suggested softly, tugging lightly on his arm to guide it on it, but was met with instant resistance. “You’d make me so happy if you touched them. They’re soft…and firm…” you boasted, squeezing them with your left hand like one would offer grapefruits at the market. “Do you want to suck them off later? I would love that so much” you persisted in a caressing voice, almost a lullaby.

Saeran’s eyelids slowly drooped during your speech, his muscles relaxing enough for you to pull his arm by an inch, before he snapped out of it and snarled.

“You wish, slut. I’m going to stick my dick in your mouth until you cry and beg me to stop, so we better make sure it’s clean, right? Eat this! **_Eat it!_** ” he threatened, grabbing the bar of soap on the bath’s dish to stuff it in your mouth, only to scream in impotent rage when you enthusiastically nodded and started chewing on it. It tasted awful, but you had dined on worse, and it was better to risk poisoning yourself than have him choke you with it.

“ ** _Damn you!!”_** he shouted when your swallowed it and opened your mouth for more, pushing you back roughly in the tub and standing up. “Do the work yourself! And don’t make me wait!” he barked before storming out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him. 

Collapsing on the edge of the tub, you buried two fingers in your throat to make you vomit the soap and muffle your sobs, trying to control the sudden fit of tremors raking your body. This had been so terrifying, and it had lasted less than _five minutes_ ; just how stupidly optimistic had you been? How long could you keep it up? How far your luck would stretch? Saeran was more fucked up than all your previous clients combined, and you wanted someone, _anyone_ , to wake you up from this nightmare.

Except it was real, and most importantly, it wasn’t over yet. Picking one bubbly morsel off the floor, you started washing yourself as fast as possible, already considering your next move. There _had_ to be something in this room to increase your safety if push came to shove, and you _had_ to find it in the window of time where you were left alone, no matter how short it was.

***

Unfortunately, once you finished scrubbing yourself clean, you soon discovered the bathroom was even less helpful than it first appeared. There wasn’t a single sharp object to be found for a makeshift weapon, not even a mirror you could break for an emergency shiv or some laundry detergent to blind your opponent; nothing had any potential for harm, which would have been odder if you hadn’t witnessed first hand how extreme Saeran’s mood swings could be. No doubt his destructive energy sometimes aimed itself at himself, and you had a sudden vision of Saeyoung methodically stripping the shelves bare of every problematic toiletry and locking them away from his brother’s reach.

 _That means there’s a key and a safe somewhere_ , you reflected astutely, but even that thought was another dead-end; _assuming_ you managed to gain access to it, found the proper materials and succeeded in murdering them both before being caught, what then? If the Agency didn’t send guards right away to finish you, how would you even leave the dungeon? The reality was that you needed to have a plan ready before contemplating any move that lead to an escape, and that brought you back to your immediate concern: buying time with the brothers.

A sudden shout snapped your attention back to their presence, and fearful of adding to Saeran’s mania by dallying too much, you hurried to wrap a towel around yourself and rushed outside, only to find them bickering over the bed:

“I’ll have her for the first half of the week!” Saeran was wailing; judging by his reddened cheeks and the tension running from his clenched jaw to his tightened fists, the “discussion” had been going for some time already.

“ _No_ , we already tried that, and it doesn’t work” Saeyoung replied, pushing his glasses up to hide a sigh of solicitous, but tired patience. “The girls are too distressed when it becomes _my_ turn, and then _you’re_ angry because I don’t bed them enough, remember? We must take turns each day” he insisted, his tone bordering on supplication, and you did an internal double-take. _Taking turns?_ It was a strangely considerate notion in all this madness, but it was also unbelievable. You had expected to struggle to make the _whole relationship_ works as a threesome, not literally having to convince them to share you sexually! In which reality did morally compromised twins went through dozens of girls without ever thinking of double teaming _once?_   

“ _No!_ I want to make her suffer right now! _Now!_ ” Saeran shouted again, his pitch rising to tantrum-levels, and you knew you had to intervene before the situation got even more out of hand.

“Boys, that’s enough!” you hollered, and their faces turned as if commanded by one mind to look at you, both wearing the same surprised expression that you dared manifest yourself and interrupt them. “Who said anything about taking turns?” you continued, your heart starting to beat wildly in your chest as they remained unmoved by your proposition—or rather remained _unreacting,_ as if they hadn’t understood what you meant at all.

 _God, please!_ you prayed under your breath, pushing the next words off your lips with the trepidation of a convict signing his own appeal. It had to work right away or you’d never break free of their custody schedule until it was too late, you were sure of it. “You’ll both have me at the same time, won’t you? I assure you I have enough holes for all your fantasies” you added with a sultry purr, dropping the towel on the floor for effect and letting them their eyes rove on your full nudity, filling them with every creamy inch of skin and curves leading to the well trimmed triangle of curls nestled between your legs. You couldn’t have made a better entrance if you were a bunny straight out off a Playboy’s magazine; the air instantly sizzled with the energy of rutting testosterone and raging libidos, and you deftly jutted out a hip, exhibiting your assets even more provocatively before advancing towards them.

Saeyoung was the first to react, gulping audibly before shoving his hands in his pants’ pockets and looking ostensibly away, but Saeran was much less a gentleman in his appreciation, his breath puffing in eager little pants that gave no doubt as to his impatience. Even if he had been frustrated before, the whole bathroom episode had obviously been quite a turn-on to him, and you could _feel_ his giddiness at the idea of inflicting even more pain slithering off him like invisible tentacles.  

 _No matter; at least he’s receptive_ , you focused on, stopping right as you brushed Saeran’s foot with your own; now all was left was to get Saeyoung on board with your plan. “Saeran already promised me I’ll be able to suck him off tonight, so won’t you take me from behind in the meantime?” you asked Saeyoung, looking meaningfully at him while lightly trailing your fingers over his brother’s arm, before fully turning your attention towards him. “Saeran, what do you say?” you asked in your most caressing voice, going for the kill. “Wouldn’t you like to feel each thrust from your brother push your cock deeper into my mouth?”

For once, Saeran reacted exactly as you wished him to. His lips stretched with the creepiest, most sadistic grin you’ve ever witnessed, before he threw you on the bed with enough force to disorient you. There was the sound of a belt and a zipper being undone and Saeyoug’s voice rushing at your side and screaming at him to _stop_ , and then your face was already yanked in his crotch and your mouth filled with his cock, ramming in like you were nothing but a hole in the wall.

“ _Mffffff!!!!!!!!_ ” you protested on instinct, before gathering your bearings and flicking your gaze upwards. Saeran wasn’t paying attention to you _at all_ : his eyes were hot and fully bored into Saeyoung’s, lamely standing there at the limit of your eyesight after his aborted attempt to rescue you, and you felt Saeran’s fingers tighten in your hair, as if only waiting for his brother to voice his disapproval again to snap your neck.

“I _like_ the idea, brother” Saeran hissed while still pounding your face so mercilessly that helpless tears rolled down your cheeks, “don’t you? Or should I just get rid of her?” he continued, his voice like a serpent’s, taunting, _knowing_ , and your soul almost chilled in horror to see Saeyoung shuffling awkwardly on his feet, his non-verbal just screaming how reluctant he was to comply, even with your life in the balance.

_You’ve got to be kidding me. Why wouldn’t he want to? I thought this guy was ready for **anything** as long as it kept his brother calm! Come **on!**_

“That’s not –” he started once he realized you were both looking at him expectantly, and you didn’t miss how his eyes darted to his fingers fidgeting around his cross; possibly, God and his monogamous commandments were the only thing ranking higher than his brother’s well-being, and you’d have admired the fact he still had the remnant of a spine if it wasn’t damning you with it. “That’s not –” he started again, before returning his gaze to Saeran’s, and you felt the precise moment even God was cast aside for the sake of brotherhood. His hand fell back at his side, and a shaky breath made his lungs swell once before being exhaled in surrender: “…I mean, why not, after all? We never tried that…I guess it could be fun” he finished weakly, a broken smile crooking his lips.

The rest was a blur of pain and sweat and sex measured in adrenaline’s rushes and bruises blooming on your skin. Not waiting for Saeran’s reply or any further exchange to ruin the moment, you shifted around on your hands and knees to firmly present your ass to Saeyoung at the same time as he manoeuvred you to him, and slid his hand underneath you in futile attempt to get you minimally wet before forcing his way in.

 _I don’t care, just get it in!_ you screamed mentally as you felt his hardened length poke against your thigh. It was a miracle already that he could get it up and you wouldn’t complain on the details, even if it’d hurt like a bitch, but then so would dyi—

“ ** _Mffffff!!!!!!!!_ ”** you screamed in agony when his flesh invaded yours, the sound muffled by Saeran’s throbbing cock still stretching your lips wide and Saeyoung’s apologetic little shushes, and you forced yourself to steady and focus on what you needed to happen. Saeyoung’s hands were trembling against your hips as he rutted in swift, almost sorrowful thrusts, and you pushed back against him, balancing yourself on one arm as you reached for your clit with the other and started sucking Saeran in earnest.  

“She’s totally feeling it… It’s great…” Saeran panted as you settled into a pattern, moaning and welcoming him deeper every time Saeyoung surged forward.

“Is it? Good, go at it” Saeyoung encouraged, and you felt him pick up the pace now that your juices were slicking their way out, no doubt as anxious as you were to drain Saeran asap and end this hurdle—

“Haha, brother, but you’re making such a funny face!…” Saeran commented, his voice edging on the pleasured side of delirious. “I wanna try too!”

There was no fresher air but the one hitting your palate when Saeran abruptly pulled out, but there was barely time to breathe before you were turned around and the brother’s roles were reversed. Saeran’s cock plunged in your core with the same punishing energy he used on your face and you latched on Saeyoung’s own engorged member with desperate ardor, making him moan what sounded like a strangled, gargled prayer for God’s forgiveness, and making Saeran’s pounding even more brutal. Saeyoung whimpered, and you took his hand to push it harder in your hair, squeezing his wrist with the mute message _not to stop, don’t stop, almost there_ —

“Your face is…really funny…how does…it feel?” Saeran managed, and it struck you as odd then, how despite being balls deep in your cunt, he was _still_ looking at his brother only, as if you were only a toy connecting him to him, and it hit you then that it _was_ what you were; something that allowed him to please that brother he hated so much without being obvious about it, maybe not even to him.

 _Alright then, lover boy_ , you thought with renewed hope. _Let’s help you with those brother issues._

“She’s moaning…God, the vibrations…” Saeyoung groaned helplessly in reply as you twirled your tongue around him, faster and faster, bobbing your head up and down with a single goal in mind—“ _Ahh!_ God, Saeran, she’s— ** _aahhhh!_** ” he grunted as he spilled himself in your mouth before tumbling sideward on the bed.

The moment your mouth was free, Saeran flipped you back to him, forcing himself back between your lips to use your head as a masturbatory tool, and you went with it, adding hands and moans to his furious race to reach orgasm himself, his attention barely on you as he continued to watch Saeyoung sprawled in shameless post-coital bliss while still desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Both… my brother’s cum and my cum are going…to mix in your mouth now…” Saeran managed with difficulty, his attention snapping back to you in the last seconds, and you did your best to smile as he pried your jaw open to ooze his load, watching his fluids pool over your tongue and slowly coat your lips white.

And just like that, it was over. Saeran’s manic energy abated, his thirst for violence apparently spent with the strength of his release, and his whole aura diminished, settling in one of…peace, almost, or as close to peace as he ever felt recently.

“That felt good, sweetie” you praised once he released your chin, swallowing down before opening your mouth again, showing him how it was now all gone to mix in your stomach. “Can you give me more? I want more” you insisted, even if your legs were about to give out and your cheekbones felt like molasses.

“Not tonight” Saeyoung wheezed, not even trying to sit up anymore, and you had the distinct impression he was speaking to _you_ rather than his brother. “I just can’t, by _God_ Saeran I don’t know what you did but she siphoned me—” he rasped, but you ignored him.

“Please?” you asked Saeran instead, begging as whorishly as you could.

“Not before my brother is ready, you slut, didn’t you hear?” he growled, rising his hand as if to hit you, and you flinched in reflex, only to feel his fingers gently run from your hair to your cheek in a strangely affectionate way. “But I think I’m going to keep you” he whispered when you searched his eyes for an explanation, “Minhee.”

Saeyoung’s head snapped back up upon hearing the name, so fast you almost expected to hear a bone crack, but his next words sent a thrill just as violent down your spine:

“Brother, you can’t give her Mom’s name. That’s just sick!” he protested, before letting his head hit the mattress again, as if it was too heavy to support—the head or the outrage, you weren’t sure, and you didn’t care.

 _Mom’s name_. You couldn’t have dreamed of a stronger connection to his psyche even if you tried; that he was _really_ associating you with her already or merely projecting his wish was irrelevant. The fact was that he was transferring just as you wished he would, and that name was worth its weight in gold. It was an amulet of protection right from the Devil’s hands, a self-fulfilling spell more effective than a spider’s web; every time he’d say your name he’d reinforce his own weakness, until, hopefully, he crippled himself enough that you’d be able to use it against him.

“You’re free to call her something else if you wish” Saeran was saying over you, bringing you back to reality. “But it does fit her rather well, doesn’t it?” he remarked, letting his fingers trail down to the tip of your chin. You could feel them twitching underneath like they were obeying an unconscious desire to scratch it, almost as if you were a pet he was eager to reward for a trick well performed.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Saeyoung looking at his brother pensively, taking in his new subdued behavior and fondness; then his gaze locked on you, and a glow akin to hope faintly lighted his amber orbs.

“I guess it does fit her, brother…Yes, it does” he repeated more firmly, then let his eyes close, too exhausted to comment further. Later, much later, you’d find out he meant as much the association to their mother’s ghost as the meaning of the name itself: cleverness and pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future chapters of the fic will be posted first on my [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com/) before being transferred here. You can also check my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) if you want to know the progress in my writing. See you all there!


	3. Welcome in Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit quieter before things really start rolling, but I hope you guys enjoy it just as much as the previous two. As always you can follow me on [Tumblr](http://themadpuppy85.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/themadpuppy85) to check my writing progress. See you there!

_Sore_ wouldn’t even come close to describe how you felt the next morning. It was in the corners of your lips, stretched until they were chapped, and the stiffness of your limbs, heavy from exertion; mostly though, it was in the pain between your legs, that dull ache that throbbed like rails would after the passage of a train. It was the first thing that registered in your brain upon waking up, brutally reminding you of your situation and tensing your whole body with the realization that you couldn’t see nor move.

“Shhhhhh” a low voice commanded to your ear while a large hand abruptly clapped over your mouth, gagging you before you could even peep one panicked gasp. “Relax” it continued ominously, paralyzing you with fright until it went on “you don’t want to wake him up yet”.

You nodded against the hand, relief flooding your veins as it released its grip. Given that there was only one _him_ the voice could refer to so cautiously, it meant it was Saeyoung who had just spoken, and that in turn clarified your predicament; it was still night, and the brothers were sandwiching you like a piece of meat. Based on the way his arm had slid back, he was the body spooning you; that left Saeran to secure the front, but as your eyes adjusted to the darkness you were puzzled not to see his face until you sensed the rhythmic puff of air blown on your chest.

There he laid, blissfully asleep. His head had naturally lodged itself between your breasts and his arms were circling your hips in a possessive gesture, much like a child clinging to his mother. Free from the madness that was twisting his mind, he looked as small and innocent as a teacup, ready to shatter at the merest pressure; it was both a heartbreaking and horribly misleading sight.

 _I wonder what happened_ , you thought idly as your eyes continued to adjust, taking in the shades of his hair color. It didn’t look like a bleach job, as you first assumed, but truly discoloured, as if shock had whitened most of it in a flash. It was scientifically impossible, but there had to be more to it than simple physicality; this close, you could actually see little patches of red at some tips, like remainders of a time long gone, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it had something to do with what he called _Saeyoung’s betrayal._   

“It’s my fault” whispered Saeyoung in your back, almost as if he heard your thoughts—or maybe he was just constantly agonizing about his brother, which was entirely possible. “I made him like that.”

“What happened?” you inquired softly, curbing the curiosity in your voice to make it sound more empathic than pressing. You needed all the information you could get; if he was in a chatty mood, the last thing you wanted was to put him off.  

“I won’t tell you, so please don’t ask” he sighed, not unkind but firm, and you would have left it at that for the moment were it not for his next words: “Just know that I deserve it, _all_ of it, and I don’t want…” he stumbled on the verb, like it was forbidden from his vocabulary, then sighed again. “Just… Don’t pull another stunt like yesterday, alright? It’s too dangerous to take us both at the same time. You’ll be safer if you stay away from me when you’re with him.”

“Are you _kidding?_ ” you spluttered, careful to keep your voice to a murmur. “You saw what happened, right? He _named_ me! Listen, I think that if we—”

“I’ll admit you’re doing fine so far, better than anyone else” Saeyoung cut without letting you finish. “But that won’t last. It never does” he added as an afterthought, so low you weren’t sure you heard him correctly. Whatever hope you saw in his eyes yesterday, it had obviously been snuffed in the long hours of his insomnia, and your blood boiled redder than rage in frustration.

“Look here, you pessimistic asshole” you sneered under your breath, “if you want to brood alone until Jesus himself comes back to absolve you of your sins that’s one thing, but I want to live, you hear me? I have dreams! _I refuse to die because of your bullshit!_ ” you accused, throwing the full weight of your despair behind the words. “I’m going to _survive_ this fucking place and you’re _not_ going to screw it up by hesitating like you did yesterday, _capiche_?” you ranted further, too furious to mind the consequences of angering him.

“Minhee—” he protested weakly, using your new pet name without even seeming to realize it himself.

“Shut up, I’m not done yet” you stopped him. He couldn’t beg you to calm his brother to save your life while simultaneously sabotaging your best shot at it; it was not only stupid and unfair, but downright _cruel_ , and you wouldn’t just meekly lie down and accept it, not without him explaining _why_ first. “Now you listen to me. I’m going to bleed for three days thanks to you humping me dry, so I think I have a right to know why the _hell_ I’m enduring all this torture. So I’ll repeat again: _what happened?_ ” you blew up, biting your lip hard to stop yourself from screaming. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything more without risking to wake Saeran up or upsetting Saeyoung irremediably. No man liked to be yelled at, guilty or not, and you didn’t know him enough yet to figure if he was the forgiving kind for these matters.

Fortunately, Saeyoung seemed to have the good grace to accept the blame for what it was, and just sighed even mournfully.

“…It wouldn’t change anything if I told you” he offered instead, his tone flat with the same resignation he used to tell you about the previous ( _dead_ ) girls. “Go back to sleep while you can. I’ll go get the delivery for the new equipment upstairs and start prepping it up” he announced resolutely, ignoring your whine of helplessness and moving to rise from the bed like one would flee a black cloud.

“ _Saeyoung!”_ you pleaded, turning your head as much you could to catch his gaze. He wasn’t crazy like his brother; he couldn’t just look you in the eye and say—

“Don’t worry” he reassured just as he got up, his voice already sounding distant. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it if you tried again, it’s just… If Saeran can be kept happy by us sleeping all together I’ll do so, but nothing more. Nothing good ever comes when I become further involved” he insisted, as if he was as much convincing you as reminding himself of the fact. There was a pause pregnant with his turmoil, then he purposefully avoided looking at you before uttering the most cowardly, broken, _infuriating_ apology you could have ever imagined: “I’m sorry about your dreams.”

You tightened your eyes shut as Saeyoung walked away, blocking the tears before they rolled down your cheeks. He _knew_ that merely doing the minimum wouldn’t satisfy Saeran for long, but he wouldn’t try to do more, because it was pointless to try, even if the very thing that made it pointless was his refusal to try because it was pointless… The logic looped to certain death. Maybe that’s why the rumors had dubbed him Murder, even if it was Saeran who had done all the actual killing; his apathy was condemning you just as efficiently. Clutching Saeran closer to your chest, you tried to go back to sleep, only to be plagued with nightmares.

***

It was the scent of cheap coffee wafting through the air that woke you up again, along with the sound of a shower running; the steady drizzle of water hitting the floor like an outpour in the rainforest was so foreign in the dungeon that it first registered as a dream.

“Did you wake up?” Saeyoung asked from the other side of the room, his tone brilliant and cordial as if your previous conversation never occurred. “You looked tired, so I convinced Saeran to let you sleep further before slapping you awake” he explained with a small smile when you turned to look at him, not even twitching on the use of the verb _slap_. “You should hurry to eat before he finishes showering. Coffee is on the counter, mug on the first shelf” he pointed distractedly before returning to the assembling of various computer parts. One case laid open on the table as he screwed a hard drive inside, and you blinked as your vision replaced it with the picture of a dead woman for a second, her belly sliced open for him to shove pieces in. _There, there, I’m helping you please my brother now, ain’t I?.._   

 _Breathe deep_ , you admonished yourself as you shook your head to dispel the horrific sight. Hadn’t you already predicted that Saeyoung’s attitude would be the biggest hurdle into making this work? His resistance was disheartening for sure, but it would be fine; if you could wear Saeran down into crippling himself, you could just as well keep luring Saeyoung in until he stopped being so stubborn. All that really mattered was time, and you still had enough of it to bend the situation in your favor.

Yes, you could do this. It was just a different challenge; besides, the priority at this point was still Saeran. A well-rested man was more difficult to please than an exhausted one, when the imperative of hormones made him less picky about who would satisfy his urges; that in turn meant you had to find something to pacify him with in the meantime.

 _A home-cooked, motherly style meal should do it,_ you planned as you rose up, quickly weighing the pros and cons of wrapping yourself in the bedsheet before deciding against it. If Saeran had wanted you clothed, he would have left you the towel or thrown your dress out of the bathroom. A little cold wasn’t worth his wrath if he decided he didn’t like you using the sheet as a makeshift dress; in fact, you suspected he would rather enjoy denying you any human decency he could.

 _At least there **is** a bathroom_ , you thought darkly before refocusing on the task at hand: feeding Saeran. Padding to the kitchen area, you did a quick inventory of all it had to offer: the cookware was comprised of less essentials than a camping’s kit, most of them plastic and dull, and the pantry’s content was little more than protein bars and a bottle of ketchup. It was difficult to establish if the brothers weren’t given proper food or if Saeyoung just wanted to control the substances Saeran could poison himself with, but you couldn’t help groaning at the lack of options. Sex aside, the fastest way for a man’s affection truly was through his stomach, and you weren’t about to score any point if all you could prepare for Saeran was a ketchup-flavored nut stick.

 _Unless…_ you rejoiced upon unwrapping a random bar, taking in its fine coating of chocolate. Perhaps you couldn’t offer novelty, but you sure could jazz up what he was accustomed to. Dipping the bar into a fresh mug of coffee, you watched the chocolate dissolve into swirls, and rushed to find a bowl to crush the remaining nuts into. If you could add some hot water and sugar, you’d have a nice moka and a sort of oatmeal to present to him—

“What are you doing?” Saeran asked just behind your ear, frightening you half out of your skin and making you swear inwardly. You had forgotten how stealthy he was; you should have paid more attention to the shower.

“Saeran! Sweetie! How are you?” you exclaimed upon turning around, glancing at his expression. His eyebrows were knit together, but more in confusion than aggression, and you hurried to show him the bowl and mug. “I was making you breakfast, see? I mean” you amended quickly as his eyes darkened, remembering the cost of presuming of his actions, “I was making _myself_ breakfast, but I wanted to show it to you in case you would rather eat it yourself…” you trailed off, bravely attempting a smile as one corner of his mouth tugged up in satisfaction.

“Nice try, idiot” he said with false cheer, “but that’s not what I eat”. His hand surged forward to flip the mug and bowl out of your grasp, spilling their content all over you feet in hot sploshes that made you hiss in pain. There was no way it wouldn’t leave blisters.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry” he added with mock concern, “better be careful not to burn your tongue too” he stressed, his lips stretching into a full-grown grin as your forehead creased fractionally, your heart beating faster with dread. Was he telling you to eat it now, or…?

“What’s wrong? Why are you not hurrying up to stuff your ugly face? Don’t you find me generous?” he taunted further, his eyes lighting up with a manic energy that just _dared_ you to talk back so it could unleash itself, and you forced your expression to go blank even as you hurried your head to bob up and down in gratitude.

“You are so, so, so very generous, thank yo—” you started, playing the submissive part perfectly as you kneeled to scoop the goo back into the bowl, but was cut off.

“No, no, not like that. You’re a bitch, you can lick it right off the floor, can’t you?” he instructed, a sadistic laugh pearling out of his throat as you just stopped thinking altogether and complied right away. There was no telling how many germs you were ingesting, but this wasn’t an outright murder attempt, just a sick way to amuse himself, and you’d be glad if he was satisfied with seeing you wriggle at his feet.

“That’s it, don’t use anything else to clean the tiles but your tongue! And don’t forget my shoe!” he added in obvious delight while pushing the tip in your mouth, but his gaze gradually heightened as you applied yourself to fellate the sewn leather with mindless obedience.

 _I hope he’s getting a good look at all the bruises he left and feel guilty_ , you prayed, even as you knew how improbable that was. If anything, he was most likely getting turned _on_ by all his markings, and was about to drench you with his piss or ask you to bark and hump his leg while his brother would just stand there and pretend you were fucking _invisible_ —

“Saeran?” Saeyoung interrupted with a small cough, “I’m sorry to interrupt, brother, but if you’re not doing anything… _particular_ with her right now, can you give me a hand? We still have the Kim project to complete by this afternoon” he continued matter-of-factly, his tone every bit the wary lion tamer, and you repressed a sigh of relief as Saeran pulled his foot away.

“Sure, I’m coming” he muttered reluctantly. “Minhee, we’ll continue playing later, alright?” he promised with twisted solicitude while patting your head—then delivered a kick to your stomach that left your breathless and doubled in pain.

“Wait here and don’t get up, you filthy _cow_ ” he sneered contemptuously before strolling to his brother’s side, leaving you alone to reel in the aftermath of his madness. Your midsection was hurting so badly you wouldn’t have been able to move even if you wished to—not that you would have risked it anyways. Saeran wouldn’t take any perceived form of defiance kindly, not even just a twitch of your head to stop your hair from soaking up the last of the moka.  

 _I guess it doesn’t make a difference for my appearance_ , you thought ruefully. At least the position offered a good vantage point to observe the brothers while they worked, and you focused your attention on studying their every movement, from the way they finished setting up their computer stations to their actual behavior once they started hacking. You couldn’t read anything on their screens, but it soon became apparent that Saeran wasn’t merely restless because of his mental instability—from the way he kept glancing at his brother before increasing his own pace, there was obviously a one-sided competition going on, and you filed that information for later. If Saeran had a desire, conscious or not, to prove himself as better, that was definitely something you could exploit.

Saeyoung however was another matter, one that became increasingly frustrating as the seconds ticked by. It was easy to gather from his precise and almost god-speeded typing that he was not only formidable, but gifted, perhaps even a genius; but then the whole dungeon situation became a conundrum – why couldn’t he just hack his way into freedom? Why willingly suffer the indignity of being imprisoned like a dog in this hellhole, down where no chance of help would ever come for his brother? It made no sense; you had to be missing something—

“I want to speak to Vanderwood” Saeran said suddenly, the name throwing you off your train of thoughts.

“Saeran, he won’t talk to us before we finish the assignment, you know that” Saeyoung reminded tiredly, the fight beaten out of him before it even began.

 _“I want to speak to Vanderwood now or I won’t do the assignment!”_ Saeran cried in reply, smashing his fist in his keyboard for emphasis, and this time you couldn’t help the chill going down your spine. You considered yourself brave, but Vanderwood was bad news; terrifying as the Twins’ legend might be, they had been nothing more than ghosts in your life upstairs, while Vanderwood had been very real; he was the harbinger of death, the one assassin sent to dispose of reluctant girls, and you curled on yourself instinctively. Whatever Saeran wanted to talk to him about, it _couldn’t_ be good.

“Alright, alright, just take it easy, okay?” Saeyoung conceded with a sigh. “I’ll call him for you” he added wearily as he clicked on some icons, while you prayed Vanderwood would just ignore him.

Of course, there was no such luck.

“What is it?” Vanderwood barked as he appeared on the screen, every bit the cold-hearted bastard you remembered him to be.  “You can’t be done already, so what? Do you need a clean-up crew for your dead whore?”

“No, no, we _like_ the new girl!” Saeran replied just a touch too smoothly. “Don’t we, Saeyoung?” he prodded, his sadistic smirk creeping back on his lips.

Saeyoung said nothing, only dipping his head in assent like a broken puppet, but that was enough to goad him on. “See? Even _he_ does, for a change. In fact we like her so much I thought it’d be nice—”

He stopped then, his head snapping back to you as if he just remembered you were there.

“What are you lying there for, idiot? Get lost in the bathroom, you’re yucky” he shooed, motioning you away like you were insulting him with your presence, and you didn’t wait for him to repeat himself. Clutching your midsection, you crawled inside and closed the door behind you, not even throwing a glance over your shoulder as you did—

—only to find your dress neatly folded and topped with a single hairpiece that had your soul dissolve into hysterics. By a very fine brand of deliberate cruelty or just sheer ill-fated coincidence, Saeran had left a heart-shaped pin to complete your outfit.

 _Didn’t Lora wear something like this?_ you wondered as you counted the number of fake diamonds on the dainty frame. _Pretty Lora, with her blonde hair like Marilyn’s, sent screaming to the Twins…_

You pressed your palms against your ears and rocked back and forth, vainly trying to drown out the morbid tune. The situation was hopeless enough as it was. If Vanderwood was added into the mix, there was no way you wouldn’t end up as a relic on top of a bloodied rag too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before any of you ask the question; nope, there won’t be a foursome with Vanderwood XD And nope, Saeyoung won’t stay that infuriatingly apathic for much longer ;) But before that…who’s interested in some Saeran sex? I know I am ~ ;D


End file.
